


Melangell

by NemesisNyx, Varalisse



Series: The Falasion Legacy [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Mel is self destructive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:28:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NemesisNyx/pseuds/NemesisNyx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varalisse/pseuds/Varalisse
Summary: Melangell the Smuggler in the Thravang/Sihobeon universe





	1. Chapter 1

Mel looked at the Jedi Academy. Somewhere in that building, somewhere past all those stiffs wearing boring robes of brown or tan was her aunt’s ashes. Mel needed those ashes. Those ashes did not belong to the Jedi Order. Those ashes did not belong on a shelf forgotten except for a plaque with her name and title on it.

 

Those ashes belonged with her and Hywela. Those ashes belonged back in their home on Dantooine. Where her uncle’s ashes were kept.

 

#

 

Mel didn’t remember her parents, she always only knew her sister, her aunt, and her uncle –her aunt’s husband. Mel only knew that her aunt had been a Sith Lord until Mel was six, then switched sides.

 

Mel only knew that her aunt had told the Jedi Order she was not about abandon her nieces or her husband and the Jedi Order could just shove their no relationship rule up their tight taints. The Jedi had acquiesced. And Mel’s aunt had continued raising her two nieces with her husband on Dantooine while teaching at the enclave that her aunt had started on the planet. It was a small enclave that only had a total of three Jedi and one padawan. It was mostly used as a healing temple.

 

Then came a mission that the Order NEEDED Mel’s aunt to undertake when Mel was nine and Hywela was five. Mel’s aunt never returned.

 

And the Jedi shunned Mel, her sister, and her uncle; hadn’t allowed the three of them to attend her aunt’s memorial service or the interment of her ashes in the Jedi temple.

 

The Jedi enclave on Dantooine was closed down, abandoning Mel and her family. Forcing Mel’s uncle to take up hunting, forcing Mel to take up shipping as a means to make money for the family.

 

Mel had a ship and could fly it better than most pilots three times her age. Hywela was being taught what their uncle new, he had been a bounty hunter, hung out with Mandalorians although he was never adopted into a clan before he had met Mel’s aunt, falling in love with the powerful Chiss woman.

 

Mel did not like the Jedi. She didn’t hate the Jedi but she didn’t like them. The sent her aunt to die, they sent her uncle to die, they made it to where Hywela was captured by slavers and tortured for a full year before Mel got her back.

 

It had taken a year to find the correct Jedi temple her aunt’s ashes were located in. It had taken weeks to infiltrate the planet of Tython. The Jedi were too trusting.

 

Mel looked at the temple again. She needed to find a way in.

 

#

 

Rowenda and Rhiawen were supposed to be in bed; it was midnight and their RA frowned upon them wandering the hallways of the Jedi Academy so late at night. Something to do with them being children, as if being eight years old had anything to do with it. But Rhiawen wanted to see the ashes of fallen Jedi and breaking into rooms was always easier with Rowenda.

 

“Rhia,” Rowenda hissed at her sister as Rhiawen looked at all the urns that held actual remains. The sisters had learned earlier in the week that most Jedi didn’t have the luxury of having a body interred. It had fascinated both sisters for different reasons. “We aren’t alone.”

 

Rhiawen looked back at her sister. “A teacher?” Rhiawen did not have a ready lie to give if discovered by a teacher.

 

Rowenda shook her head, biting her bottom lip nervously. Not a teacher? Now, Rhiawen was nervous. The two sisters mirrored each other and as one turned to a scraping noise from the darker portion of the tomb. Waited.

 

#

 

Mel cursed quietly and inventively in Cheunh. There were too many urns, and she had heard whispering earlier.

 

“Who’s there?” Mel heard a voice ask from the shadows.

 

Mel said nothing, crouching as low as she could. Were there non-Force sensitives here? Like security guards or something.

 

“Would you like help?” This voice right above Mel.

 

Swearing violently, Mel looked up to find that she was discovered. She blinked a few times, sure she was seeing double. She was but not in the way she originally thought. She was looking at identical twins, right down to the very freckles that skated across their noses and cheeks. The girls were fellow Chiss, light in skin, grey hair pulled back in identical ponytails, both biting their bottom lips, both heads cocked in the same direction.

 

“Why would you help me?” Mel had learned distrust in the last year.

 

Rowenda and Rhiawen studied the other Chiss; cobalt blue skin, a beauty mark under her left eye, black hair cut short, crouched down and poised to strike.

 

It was Rowenda that answered. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

 

“Because they shouldn’t have taken your mother’s ashes away from you.” Rhiawen supplied.

 

Mel closed her eyes and sighed. Damn Force sensitives. “Why would you help me steal from the Jedi Order?” Mel sat up. The twins were two years younger than her.

 

Mel watched as the twins exchanged a look. The look was calculating, filled with what Mel thought was too malevolent for Jedi padawans, or children so young.

 

“We want you to get us our own holo and to contact somebody for us.” The one on the left said.

 

“So an exchange of services?” Mel smiled, her smile a wry twisting of her lips. It said that she’d do anything for credits and only understood people of like mind.

 

“Yes.” The one on the right said.

 

“I’m Melangell.” Mel thrust her hand out. “You can call me Mel.”

 

The one on the left shook her hand first, the one of the right second.

 

“I’m Rhiawen.” The one on the left said.

 

“I’m Rowenda.” The one on the right said.

 

Mel nodded. “Twins, huh. Which one is older?” Mel had a perverse need to know.

 

“Me.” Rhiawen said.

 

“I have a little sister myself.” Mel said. For some odd reason she trusted these kids. Maybe it was because they were Chiss. Maybe it was it was because they wanted something in return for helping Mel. Maybe it was because they reminded Mel superficially of her and Hywela.

 

“So what are you looking for?” Rowenda asked, sitting down next to Mel.

 

“I’m looking for my aunt.” Mel said. “Her name was Jedi Nis Rlaga. It could be written as Rlaga’nis’gaunu.”

 

Rhiawen and Rowenda exchanged another look. “Didn’t we see that name earlier?” Rhiawen asked.

 

“We did.” Rowenda nodded, standing up and leading her sister and Mel to an urn that was too high on shelf for any of them to get.

 

Mel swore again.

 

“Don’t worry, she’ll get it.” Rhiawen smiled up at Mel, pointing her chin at her sister.

 

Rowenda scrunched her eyes in concentration, lifting her hands, concentrating. Mel whistled when she saw her aunt’s urn lift up and float slowly down to Rhiawen’s open arms.

 

“Here you go.” Rhiawen handed the urn to Mel.

 

“Thanks.” Mel felt like crying. But she didn’t. Her aunt would finally be able to go home.

 

Mel secured her aunt’s ashes in her bag that she brought with her, strapping it down so she didn’t spill any of her aunt. She had to get back to the ship, she had bribed the captain, left him drugged in a stupor and she needed to wake up beside him so as not to arouse suspicions.

 

“Hey,” Mel looked down at the twins, again shook her head at the uncanny way the twins looked like mirrored images of each other. “Here’s my holo frequency.” She gave the slip of paper the Rowenda, the more practical of the two that Mel figured. “And here.” Mel gave Rhiawen her holo. “I have another holo, you can use this one. Who do you need me to contact?”

 

“Can you get to Rishi?” Rhiawen asked, breathlessly.

 

Mel cocked an eyebrow. Rishi? “Sure, I got my own ship and everything.”

 

“Go to Rishi, go to the Blaster’s Path cantina and talk to Kareen. Give her the frequency to this holo.” Rhiawen indicated the holo Mel had just given her.

 

Mel nodded. She could remember that, those directions weren’t too hard. Also, in her line of work –smuggling, minor piracy –it was easier to have a damn fine memory and never write anything down but the money reckoning. “Will do.”

 

Mel clicked her tongue and winked at the sisters.

 

“Thank you, Mel.” Rowenda smiled.

 

“You’re welcome.” She climbed back out of the window she had slipped into.

 

Rowenda and Rhiawen, twins and Jedi. With somebody named Kareen at the Blaster’s Path cantina on Rishi.


	2. Chapter 2

Mel looked through narrowed eyes at her companion. Corso Riggs; an attractive farm boy from Ord Mantel; he had light brown hair, bright blue eyes, freckles, an easy smile, and the cutest accent Mel had ever heard. He was attracted to her. Mel had grown up knowing how to peg people, it was a gift. She could play on the feelings she invoked in people, whether the feelings were positive or negative. And Corso felt very positive feelings towards Mel.

 

Then talking with Rowenda at the Fleet, her suspicions confirmed; she and Corso Riggs were meant to be a thing.

 

While Mel had balked at first, it made a sad kind of sense the more she thought about it. Mel wasn’t a lady, not in deed or action. She loved the quick money, the easy gamble, the wild night every night. Corso was a gentleman.

 

He and Mel kept dancing round each other. Mel had made it clear that she’d be fine –more than fine –with Corso making a move but he didn’t do anything.

 

It was maddening and Mel was beginning to think that Corso didn’t like her after all. A shame, really.

 

Mel shrugged, and paid attention to the card game. Corso was losing, badly. Mel almost felt guilt taking the credits Corso owned. Almost.

 

#

 

Corso watched with veiled jealousy and obvious admiration as Captain Melangell Rlaga suckered a table full of Republic soldiers, he had bowed out after only one hand. He often wondered if Mel found enjoyment in trouncing the stodgy soldiers just because she knew that the story would get back to Rhiawen, CO of Havoc Squad.

 

Mel was currently leaning against an older Twi’lek male –always males –rubbing one of his lekku, her breasts pressed into the side of his arm as she whispered encouragements and directions on his ear about the current card game, her other hand stealing the poor man’s wallet.

 

It wasn’t that Mel needed the credits; she made bank on the jobs she picked up for the crew and when she needed extra money she would always find a sabaac or pazaak game, fleece the other players. And Mel never cheated, she was just that good. It was almost as if she could use the Force but of course if she could she would never admit it.

 

Corso saw Mel slip the Twi’lek’s wallet back in his pocket a few credits lighter than before. Corso sighed.

 

Looking broodingly at his drink, Corso tried to sort out his feelings for Mel. He liked her, he found her attractive, he thought they’d make a great couple and Mel seemed to like him back, she was always hitting on him but Corso wasn’t sure if she actually liked him or if it was just a game to her.

 

#

 

Mel walked away from the sabaac table hours later, a new blaster, several new crystals, a few chronos and even more credits than before she ‘let’ herself be talked into playing.

 

Mel always ‘let’ herself be talked into a great many things. She never knew how she was able to talk others into talking her into doing things. She just always has. It was a useful skill. Mel never looked culpable. Hywela was invisible in every sense of the word but literally.

 

Their partnership and sistership was a thing of beauty. It was almost like Rhiawen’s and Rowenda’s. But where Rhiawen and Rowenda worked together to form one machine, cogs in the clockwork, the clock never working if either piece was gone. Mel and Hywela were too complimentary machines, a blaster and a knife. Mel knew at once she was the blaster, obvious, explosive. Hywela was the knife, easily concealed, dangerous, able to maim or kill, scar or slash.

 

Mel shook her head. She would have to call Hywela soon. Her sister had left several bottles of the Mandalorian spiced alcohol the Mandalorians favored on Mel’s ship while on Nar Shaddaa. The sisters were never seen together or even in the same area but they found ways to communicate, to leave messages for each other.

 

Probably because both sisters were on a mission to find out who killed their aunt. Mel worked by subterfuge, flirting, perfectly cultivated artifice. Hywela worked by openness.

 

Shaking her head again, Mel cast a look over to her companion. Corso Riggs. There was a man that Mel liked. She more than liked but he wasn’t getting the hints. It was a pity. Mel wrapped her arms around Coro’s leaning into him, she batted her eyelashes up at him.

 

“Cap,” Corso tried to extract his arm, Mel’s fingers clenched down, he gave up. “Why you gotta do that?”

 

Mel blinked at him; it took her a minute to realize he was talking about fleecing the soldiers not hanging on his arm like it was a lifeline.

 

“It’s fun and I learn so many interesting things.” Mel shrugged, rubbing her cheek against Corso’s shoulder. Corso was only five inches taller than Mel and it was glorious.

 

“You still don’t gotta act like that though.” Corso tried to extract his arm again.

 

This time Mel let him, releasing his arm all at once as if it burned. Maybe it had. Corso walked a few feet without Mel, he turned around, intent on apologizing, he hadn’t meant to make it sound like her disapproved of her behavior. He didn’t disapprove, he just didn’t understand it. Mel had wanted to play sabaac, why did she have to act like she didn’t and get the soldiers to convince her to play?

 

“Corso,” Mel looked at him, the early conversation forgotten, just like that, “we’re being followed.”

 

Before Corso could respond, Mel shoved him behind a stack of crates, her body moving in a very sensual way against his as she wiggled into the small space as well. Neither breathed.

 

Corso watched through crates between the stack of crates, Mel watched as well, as two SIS agents stalked past, trying to locate them.

 

Corso tried to catch Mel’s eye, Mel ignored him until the SIS agents walked past.

 

“Mel, what did you do?” Corso hissed in panic. SIS agents were different than regular soldiers.

 

“I didn’t do anything, Riggs.” Mel spat back. She only used his last name when she was thinking about how to solve a problem.

 

Corso waited as Mel tried to think up a solution. They couldn’t continue on to their ship without passing the SIS agents, they couldn’t go back the way they came without possibly passing more SIS agents.

 

“Corso, we got two options.” Mel looked up at Corso. “We could either leave separately and hid and make it back to the ship alone or we could make-out behind these crates so loudly that the SIS agents don’t find us suspicious.”

 

Corso wanted to laugh. How were those the only two options? How could Mel be so serious? But she was.

 

Corso tried to weigh the sensibility of her two plans against his own desires. Both made sense. He should pick the first one where they split up but he didn’t want to leave Mel alone. He knew it was a terrible idea thinking about kissing Mle let alone actually kiss her.

 

Corso heard footsteps coming back down the hallway.

 

“Make up your mind.” Mel turned to face him, poked him in the chest.

 

Corso did the only thing he could think of, he kissed her. Corso Riggs kissed Melangell Rlaga. And it was both the best and worst decision of his life.

 

Mel’s shock quickly morphed into hunger, her arms snaking out to grip Corso’s head. Corso slide a hand into her hair and another over her ass, both fisting, one in silky black hair, the other in the silky black dress that Mel had worn.

 

The dress was a form fitting black, shimmery, silk number that covered Mel from her neck to her legs, only her head, hands, and toes in heels that peeked out whenever she walked were visible. The dress was skin tight showing off Mel’s body. Corso was unsure how she sat down. There were no slits or peek-a-boo holes or cut-outs. Only miles of black silk fabric.

 

It was maddening.

 

Corso turned them, pressing Mel into the wall instead of the unstable crates, his hand sliding off her ass to grip her hip, holding it still. Mel fought Corso for dominance, their tongues clashing in the best way as she made tiny mewling noises, her hands trailing to grip Corso’s shoulders.

 

Mel’s tongue won an inch of ground and delved to tease Corso’s teeth before darting back to continue its clash with his tongue. Corso leaned into Mel, only the tightness of her dress prevented him from leaning in far enough to satisfy. He hooked both his hands under her thighs, bringing them up, tried to wrap her legs around his waist, the dress stopped that too. Growling in protest, Corso’s hands found the hemline of the skirt and ripped, creating a slit up the side of the dress. The noise was both a catharsis and an invitation. Corso succeeded in wrapping Mel’s legs around his waist. Mel pressed herself against him, her hands going to the back of his neck, neither breaking the kiss.

 

Corso growled low in his throat, took her hands from his neck, held both wrists in one hand, pressed them against the wall, his other hand sliding into the dress through the tear he had created earlier. Mel panted out a quick please and yes, rocking her hips against him. Corso silenced her with a quick nip of her top lip. Mel keened in pleasure.

 

Both forgot about the SIS agents, too lost in feeling. Corso reveled at the touch of Mel’s bare skin, her thigh, her stomach, her hip, her ass. She wasn’t wearing underwear and it would be so easy for Corso to slam himself home in her heat. So easy.

 

It was this thought that snapped Corso back to the present. He backed up, knocking into the crates, they wobbled dangerously.

 

“I am so sorry, Cap.” Corso refused to look anywhere but Mel’s feet, which he could see very well through the massive tear in her dress.

 

“Why are you apologizing?” Mel was breathless still from the kiss.

 

“What I did wasn’t right.” Corso shook his head, his erection losing power the more the shame of his actions took root in his mind.

 

“Corso Riggs,” Mel’s voice had a strangely dark quality to it. It was all at once pleasant and unpleasant, dreaming and nightmare, “you are an asshole.”

 

Corso looked up. Mel had never called him an asshole before; a farm boy, and idiot, and a dumbass but never an asshole.

 

Corso opened his mouth to say –something, anything, tried to grab Mel’s wrist but she snatched it out of his reach, deciding that banging it on the wall of the hallway was better than having Corso touch her.

 

Mel ran away.

 

Corso had never seen Mel run away from anything and she ran away from him.

 

Corso felt that Mel was not calling him an asshole for ripping her dress.

 

There were no longer any SIS agents about.


	3. Chapter 3

Mel wanted to do something dangerous like seduce a Jedi or steal an Imperial frigate or give a blow-job to a random Republic admiral. Believe it or not, Mel had stolen an Imperial frigate before, the best part had been crashing it into the desert on Tatooine. She had yet to seduce a Jedi or give a blow-job to a random Republic admiral. Both were wonderful choices. Both were harder than stealing an Imperial frigate.

 

Mel prowled the Fleet looking for anything that appealed to her. She wasn’t talking to Corso and so far avoiding him was proving to be a success. But she needed _something_ to do.

 

Sighing, Mel took a shuttle to another one of the monstrously large ships that made up the fleet. She didn’t know which monstrously large ship and she didn’t care. She needed –she didn’t know what she needed.

 

She needed to get laid, she decided suddenly. She needed to have her brain fucked senselessly out of her head again and again before being fucked back in before being fucked back out again.

 

Mel hoped there was an admiral on this ship. Admirals were always easier to get at than Jedi.

 

#

 

Mel thought the _Telos_ looked rather like the _Gav Daragon_. She had spent two hours wandering the Gav Daragon before resigning herself to its lack of admirals and left. The _Telos_ wasn’t looking like it would be better for admirals.

 

Maybe she should go back to the main Fleet building and find a Jedi? There were a few looking at her in a way that told her they didn’t think too much of their own code.

 

She could always go for a major or captain or lieutenant, the Fleet had those in abundance but Mel, well, she wanted an admiral.

 

“Hello, Miss, are you lost?” a soothing authoritative voice said behind Mel.

 

Mel put on her best come hither smile and turned. “Oh, just taking a look around.” She winked at the Zabrak male that had asked. “I was on the main Fleet then when it bored me I went to the Gav but it bored me too so now I’m here.” She shrugged elegantly, pulling the Zabrak’s gaze to her bare shoulder.

 

“There is more entertainment to be had at the main Fleet.” He crossed his arms.

 

Mel pouted, seriously disappointed. She was about to be kicked off and she had barely even gotten to explore. Mel cast a cursory glance over the Zabrak. Oh, he was an admiral. And attractive.

 

“I know, but well, I had gotten into an argument with my friend and I don’t want to see him right now.” Mel pouted again, ducking her head, letting her hair cover her eyes. Pegging that this admiral Zabrak would love to help a damsel in distress.

 

The admiral’s expression softened. Mel tried not to crow too soon. “What was the argument about?”

 

“Oh, you know.” Mel picked at invisible lint on her shorts, she had rather long shapely legs, Admiral Zabrak was admiring them. “He doesn’t want me to have any fun; he wants me to stay on the ship while he goes out and carouses.” Carouse was one of Mel’s favorite words.

 

“That is rather rude of him.” Admiral Zabrak crossed his arms. “Well, how about you hang here with us while your friend figures out that he was in the wrong?”

 

And just like that, Mel won. “Really?” Her voice hopeful in the way somebody that isn’t used to kindness was hopeful.

 

“Really.” Admiral Zabrak smiled, it reached his eyes.

 

Mel was exceedingly happy. "Thank you.” She breathed.

 

#

 

Mel had to thank Admiral whatever his name was –she had already put him out of her mind. He had been a wonderful distraction. The encounter had relaxed her enough to agree to help Rowenda with whatever it was Rowenda wanted to do. Something about going back to Alderaan to try and talk to Killiks.

 

Mel didn’t care; she was quite carefree at the moment. Even her dusty, old, ugly, in need of a serious makeover ship was beautiful and carefree.

 

“Hey, Cap.” Corso’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Mel, may I talk to you for a sec?”

 

And just like that, Mel’s pleasant mood disappeared. “What?” She grunted.

 

Where was Bowdaar or Risha or anybody other than Corso?

 

“I just wanted to apologize again about earlier. I was out of line.” Corso sounded contrite.

 

Mel refused to look at him. “It’s whatever Riggs.” Mel picked up her datapad and walked away. “Get the guest room ready, we’re doing something to help Wenda.”

 

Mel jogged up the ramp into her ship, headed straight for her room.

 

“Cap!” Corso cried out, too late. “Shit.”


End file.
